Archive: Passion for God

Early Methodism was filled with vigor; vitality, and the fire of the Holy Spirit. The passion for God in the heart of the circuit riders and revival preachers was the spark that caused the miraculous growth of early American Methodism. The following letter is dated May 10, 1887 and entitled “A short sketch of the life and conversion and call to the ministry of Austin Taft.” We believe that you will be blessed and encouraged by this testimony.   —the editors

My parents were Presbyterians after the strictest sect. We left Vermont when I was 15 years old. I never saw but one Methodist in that state. We settled in the state of New York—Steuben Co. where I lived until I was married on the 9th of February 1831. Here I became acquainted with the people called Methodists. But I was taught they were from witches, full of wild fire and [that it] was very dangerous to hear them preach. In 1833 we moved to Huron Co., Ohio. Here we found a Methodist Society that held their meetings in a log school house near our house.

We frequently went to hear them preach and I was convinced they enjoyed something that we knew nothing of. Subsequently a two-day prayer meeting was appointed in the neighborhood conducted by H. G. Dubois. We attended this meeting, but became offended at the loud and noisy demonstrations witnessed there and left with disgust.

The meeting continued and we were urged to come back by a good sister and attend the meeting; for the Lord was reviving his work. I told my wife it was none of their business whether we attended meeting or not—But if she desired to go I would harness the team and we would go.

We went and found a number of the leading men of the town at the altar of prayer pleading for mercy. I was invited to go and went and resolved that I would seek God until I found Him. With cries and tears, I pled for mercy. My feelings were so intense that I despaired even of life, but concluded I would spend life’s last hour in pleading for mercy, with little or no expectation of finding it. Eternity with all its dread realities opened up before me and it’s impossible for any pen to describe the awful agonies of my mind. It is beyond all human description.

It seemed to me I had already entered the dark abodes of eternal night, and right here something seemed to whisper to me—that there was mercy for me. I stopped and listened for a moment. What a word—mercy for me. It was the best news I ever heard. From that moment my faith laid hold upon the Savior’s promises with an unguiding grasp, and I saw a light in the distance far above my head, which grew brighter as it came near, and when it reached me I fell to the floor as quick as the lightning flash, and that moment was filled with the fullness of God. Old things passed away and all things became new. My happiness was complete. … And I remained motionless for 45 minutes without power to move a muscle. My good Presbyterian father thought I was dead and talked of sending for the doctor.

The people were engaged in singing, shouting, and praising God—and it was the best music I ever heard. I arose singing “O How Happy Are They, Who their Savior Obeyed.” From that time to this I have never opposed the Methodists for making a little noise. I soon felt it my duty to join the Methodist Church; told my good mother one day at her house what my intention was. She told me not to do it; that it would be my ruin.

On my way home, while passing through a piece of woods, my heart was strangely drawn out in prayer. I fell upon my knees and asked God to send staying power upon my mother. That moment the power of God came upon me like a mighty rushing wind, and I know my prayer was answered. My sister came to our house that afternoon and said soon after I left their house while mother was setting the table for dinner she suddenly fell to the floor and shouted aloud the praises of God and thanked God that she had the same religion that Austin had. Father and mother soon joined the M.E. Church and have long since joined the Church on high.

I felt from the time of my conversion that it was my duty to preach the Gospel of the Son of God. I told the Lord I had no education, had no gifts and it was impossible for me to preach, and asked to be excused. But I had no rest while I refused to do my duty.

At last I told the Lord if He would give an evidence that I could not doubt, I would try. I went into the dense forest about one-half mile and laid the case before God in prayer. And all at once the Savior appeared before me. There seemed to be a halo of Glory around his person and his person appeared as bright as the lightning. This appearance was manifested twice and vanished out of sight but left inscribed upon the heavens in great bright golden capitals—The Promise— “Lo, I am with you always even unto the end of the world.” O! How many hundreds of times have I realized the fulfillment of this blessed promise by feeling his presence with me when trying to speak for Him, and this is the best witness that we can have. Amen.

This letter was written by an ancestor of Margaret Stratton, youth pastor and children’s coordinator of the Johnson Hill United Methodist Church in Eutaw, Alabama.

“My relatives on my father’s side were known as the shouting Methodists,” she says. “They were overjoyed with the love of Jesus Christ, and the world could see it. People were created to have a deep relationship with God and these shouting Methodists drew sincere people to the Methodist Church. There, people were looking for more of God in their lives.

“I believe this letter will be a blessing to all the Christians in the United Methodist Church who are seeking to understand their roots.”

This testimony first appeared in The Advocate, the magazine of the Alabama/West Florida Annual Conference.

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